A Sonic the Hedgehog Christmas Carol
by Injection Fairy Lily
Summary: This is a twist with Sonic the Hedgehog and Charles Dicken's A Christmas Carol, Nasty old Robotnik, who hates Christmas, will be visited by three ghosts!
1. Bah, Humbug!

Disclaimer: All Sonic characters are copyrighted © Sega Enterprises, and A Christmas Carol was written by Charles Dickens. Anyway, I have a Christmas gift that you can read and enjoy for years to come! MERRY CHRISTMAS! 

"A Sonic the Hedgehog Christmas Carol"  
by Catherine Ray  
HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

* * *

Dr. Ivo Robotnik...Ebenezer Scrooge  
Nack the Weasel...Jacob Marley  
Sonic the Hedgehog...Bob Cratchit  
Rocket the Sloth...Master Fred  
Bocoe and Decoe...Debt Collectors  
Miles "Tails," Prower...Tiny Tim Cratchit  
Miss Opossum...Fannie Scrooge  
Sonia Hedgehog...Ghost of Christmas Past  
Manic Hedgehog...Ghost of Christmas Present  
Knuckles the Echidna...Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come

* * *

Once upon a time -- of all the good days in the year, on Christmas Eve -- old Robotnik sat busy in his counting-house where there was a sign outside that said 'Scrooge and Marley'. Robotnik's partner, Nack Marley was dead. He had been dead for a year now. It was cold, bleak, biting weather: foggy withal: and he could hear the people in the court outside, go wheezing up and down, beating their hands upon their breasts, and stamping their feet upon the pavement stones to warm them. The city clocks had only just gone three, but it was quite dark already -- it had not been light all day -- and candles were flaring in the windows of the neighbouring offices, like ruddy smears upon the palpable brown air. The fog came pouring in at every chink and keyhole, and was so dense without, that although the court was of the narrowest, the houses opposite were mere phantoms. To see the dingy cloud come drooping down, obscuring everything, one might have thought that Nature lived hard by, and was brewing on a large scale. 

The door of Robotnik's counting-house was open that he might keep his eye upon his clerk, who in a dismal little cell beyond, a sort of tank was copying letters. Robotnik had a very small fire, but the clerk's fire was so very much smaller that it looked like one coal. But he couldn't replenish it, forRobotnik kept the coal-box in his own room; and so surely as the clerk, Sonic Cratchiet came in with the shovel, the master predicted that it would be necessary for them to part. Sonic tiptoed over to try to sneak some more coal to the fire, but he was caught by Robotnik! Robotnik lashed out at him and told him money burns faster than coal.

''A merry Christmas, uncle! God save you!'' cried a cheerful voice. It was the voice of Rocket the Sloth, who came upon him so quickly that this was the first intimation he had of his approach.

''Bah!'' said Robotnik, 'Humbug!''

He had so heated himself with rapid walking in the fog and frost, Rocket that he was all in a glow; his face was ruddy and handsome; his eyes sparkled, and his breath smoked again.

''Christmas a humbug, uncle!'' said Rocket. 'You don't mean that, I am sure?'

''I do,'' said Robotnik. 'Merry Christmas! What right have you to be merry? What reason have you to be merry? You're poor enough.''

''Come, then,'' returned the sloth gaily. ''What right have you to be dismal? What reason have you to be miserable? You're rich enough.''

Robotnik having no better answer ready on the spur of the moment, said, ''Bah!'' again; and followed it up with ''Humbug!''

''Aw come on! Don't be so cross, uncle.'' said Rocket.

''What else can I be,'' returned Robotnik, 'when I live in such a world of fools as this? Merry Christmas! Out upon merry Christmas. What's Christmas time to you but a time for paying bills without money; a time for finding yourself a year older, but not an hour richer; a time for balancing your books and having every blasted item in them through a round dozen of months presented dead against you? If I could work my will,' said Robotnik indignantly, ''every pathetic idiot who goes about with ''Merry Christmas' on his lips, should be boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart. He should!''

'Uncle!' pleaded the sloth.

''Nephew!' returned the tyrant, sternly, ''keep Christmas in your own way, and let me keep it in mine.''

''Keep it!'' repeated Rocket. ''But you don't keep it.''

''Let me leave it alone, then,'' said Robotnik.''Much good may it do you! Much good it has ever done you!''

''There are many things from which I might have derived good, by which I have not profited, I dare say,'' returned the sloth. ''Christmas among the rest. But I am sure I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round -apart from the veneration due to its sacred name and origin, if anything belonging to it can be apart from that-as a good time; a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time; the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys. And therefore, uncle, though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe that it has done me good, and will do me good; and I say, 'God bless it!'''

Sonic was clapping his hands for good old Rocket. Becoming immediately sensible of the impropriety, he poked the fire, and extinguished the last frail spark for ever, and Robotnik was REALLY steammed!

"What!" said Sonic, nervously. "It...was...a great speech, so sue me, fatso!"

''Let me hear another sound from you,'' said Robotnik as he grabbed Sonic by the back of his neck, ''and you'll keep your Christmas by losing your job! You're quite a powerful speaker, sir,'' he added, turning to the sloth. ''I wonder you don't go into Parliament.''

''Aww, don't be so angry, uncle. Come! Dine with us tomorrow, please?''

Robotnik said that he would see him-yes, indeed he did. He went the whole length of the expression, and said that he would see him in that extremity first.

''Why did you get married?'' said Robotnik.

''Because I fell in love.'' smiled the cheerful sloth.

''WHAT! Because you fell in love!'' growled Robotnik, as if that were the only one thing in the world more ridiculous than a merry Christmas. ''Good afternoon!''

''Nay, uncle, but you never came to see me before that happened. Why give it as a reason for not coming now?''

''Good afternoon,''

''I want nothing from you; I ask nothing of you; why can't we be friends?''

"Good afternoon,''

''I am sorry, with all my heart, to find you so resolute. We have never had any quarrel, to which I have been a party. But I have made the trial in homage to Christmas, and I'll keep my Christmas humour to the last. So A Merry Christmas, uncle!''

''Good afternoon.'' sneered Robotnik. "And get off of my property!"

''And A Happy New Year!''

"I said 'Good afternoon,' you sad, pitiful, pathetic excuse FOR A MISERABLE SLOTH, YOU!'' said Robotnik, as he tossed him out the door and into the cold weather.

"Happy Holidays!" Rocket the Sloth called back in a sweet, cheery voice.

"AND A 'BAH, HUMBUG TO YOU!" he shouted back."Good riddance!"

And then he turned to see Sonic looking outside, feeling sorry for poor Rocket.

"GET BACK TO WORK, CRATCHIT! NOW!!!!" he screamed at Sonic with fury.

"All right, all right, already. Sheesh, for crying out loud, Mr. Scrooge." Sonic muttered under his breath as he marched back to his desk. "Man, you give me a way past major headache..."


	2. Nack Marley's Ghost

_**Nack Marley's Ghost**_

* * *

''There's another fellow,'' muttered Robotnik; who overheard him: ''my clerk, with fifteen shillings a week, and a wife and family, talking about a merry Christmas. I'll retire to Robotropolis.'' 

Sonic, in letting Rocket out, had let two other visitors in. They were Bocoe and Decoe, pleasant to behold, and now stood, with their hats off, in Robotnik's office. They had books and papers in their hands, and bowed to him.

''Scrooge and Marley's, I believe,'' said Bocoe, referring to his list. ''Have I the pleasure of addressing Mr. Scrooge, or Mr. Marley?''

''Mr. Marley has been dead for a year,''Robotnik replied. ''He died last year, this very night.''

''We have no doubt his liberality is well represented by his surviving partner,'' said Deocoe, presenting his credentials.

It certainly was, for they had been two kindred spirits. At the ominous word liberality,Robotnik frowned, and shook his head, and handed the credentials back.

''At this festive season of the year, Mr Scrooge,'' said Bocoe, taking up a pen, ''it is more than usually desirable that we should make some slight provision for the Poor and destitute, who suffer greatly at the present time. Many thousands are in want of common necessaries; hundreds of thousands are in want of common comforts, sir.''

''Are there no prisons?'' asked Robotnik.

''Plenty of prisons,'' said the Decoe, laying down the pen again. "So many prisons, so little time!"

''And the Union workhouses.' demanded Robotnik. 'Are they still in operation?''

''They are. Still,'' returned Decoe, ''I wish I could say they were not.''

''The Treadmill and the Poor Law are in full vigour, then?'' said Robotnik.

''Both very busy, my good man.'' said Bocoe.

* * *

**Dressing Room**

Rocket the Sloth found a Christmas card from his family waiting for him.

* * *

''Oh. I was afraid, from what you said at first, that something had occurred to stop them in their useful course,'' said Robotnik. ''I'm very glad to hear it.''

''Under the impression that they scarcely furnish Christian cheer of mind or body to the multitude,'' returned Decoe, ''a few of us are endeavouring to raise a fund to buy the Poor some meat and drink, and means of warmth. We choose this time, because it is a time, of all others, when Want is keenly felt, and Abundance rejoices. What shall I put you down for?''

''Nothing!'' Robotnik replied.

''You wish to be anonymous?'' asked Bocoe in confusion.

''I wish to be left alone, DO YOU HEAR ME?''shouted Robotnik. ''Since you ask me what I wish, gentlemen, the answer is NO! I don't make merry myself at Christmas and I can't afford to make idle people merry. I help to support the establishments I have mentioned-they cost enough; and those who are badly off must go there.''

''Many can't afford to go there; and many would rather die.'' said Decoe sadly.

''If they would rather die,'' said Robotnik, ''they had better do it, and decrease the surplus population. Besides-excuse me-I don't know that.''

''But you might know it,'' observed Bocoe.

''It's not my business,'' Robotnik returned. ''It's enough for a man to understand his own business, and not to interfere with other people's. Mine occupies me constantly. Good day, gentlemen, AND GET OUT OF MY OFFICE!''

"Boy, was Scrooge harsh to those two kind gentlemen!" thought the sapphire spineball as he shook his head.

"HMMPH! GOOD RIDDANCE!" said Robotnik, as he slammed the door so hard, that it made Sonic jump.

Seeing clearly that it would be useless to pursue their point, Bocoe and Decoe withdrew. Robotnik resumed his labours with an improved opinion of himself, and in a morevicious temper than was usual with him.

Meanwhile the fog and darkness thickened so, that people ran about with flaring links, proffering their services to go before horses in carriages, and conduct them on their way. The ancient tower of a church, whose gruff old bell was always peeping slily down at Robotnik out of a gothic window in the wall, became invisible, and struck the hours and quarters in the clouds, with tremulous vibrations afterwards as if its teeth were chattering in its frozen head up there. The cold became intense. In the main street, at the corner of the court, some labourers were repairing the gas-pipes, and had lighted a great fire in a brazier, round which a party of ragged men and boys were gathered: warming their hands and winking their eyes before the blaze in rapture. The water-plug being left in solitude, its overflowing sullenly congealed, and turned to misanthropic ice. The brightness of the shops where holly sprigs and berries crackled in the lamp heat of the windows, made pale faces ruddy as they passed. Poulterers' and grocers' trades became a splendid joke: a glorious pageant, with which it was next to impossible to believe that such dull principles as bargain and sale had anything to do. The Lord Mayor, in the stronghold of the might Mansion House, gave orders to his fifty cooks and butlers to keep Christmas as a Lord Mayor's household should; and even the little tailor, whom he had fined five shillings on the previous Monday for being drunk and bloodthirsty in the streets, stirred up tomorrow's pudding in his garret, while his lean wife and the baby sallied out to buy the beef.

Foggier yet, and colder. Piercing, searching, biting cold. The owner of one scant young nose, gnawed and mumbled by the hungry cold as bones are gnawed by dogs, stooped down at Robotnik's keyhole to regale him with a Christmas carol: but at the first sound of :

_''God bless you, merry gentleman,  
May nothing you dismay!''_

Robotnik seized the ruler with such energy of action, that the singer fled in terror, leaving the keyhole to the fog and even more congenial frost.

At length the hour of shutting up the counting-house arrived. With an ill-will Robotnik dismounted from his stool, and tacitly admitted the fact to the expectant clerk in the Tank, who instantly snuffed his candle out, and put on his hat.

''You'll want all day tomorrow, I suppose?'' said Robotnik.

''If quite convenient, fatso.'' smiled Sonic.

''It's not convenient,'' said Robotnik.

"SAY WHAT!" said Sonic, astonished. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN, 'NOT CONVENIENT,'? HUH?"

''...and it's not fair. If I was to stop half-a-crown for it, you'd think yourself ill-used, I'll be bound?''

Sonic smiled faintly. "I think I'm going to barf..."

''And yet,' said Robotnik, 'you don't think me ill-used, when I pay a day's wages for no work.''

Sonic observed that it was only once a year.

''A poor, sad pathetic excuse for picking a man's pocket every twenty-fifth of December!'' said Robotnik, buttoning his great-coat to the chin. ''But I suppose you must have the whole day. Be here all the earlier next morning.''

"Oh, all right..." sighed Sonic in disgust. "See you tomorrow, Mr. Scrooge..."

The office was closed in a twinkling, and Sonic, with the long ends of his white comforter dangling below his waist, went down a slide on Knothole, at the end of a lane of boys, twenty times, in honour of its being Christmas Eve, and then ran home to Mobius as hard as he could pelt, to play at blindman's buff.

Robotnik took his melancholy dinner in his usual melancholy tavern; and having read all the newspapers, and beguiled the rest of the evening with his banker's-book, went home to bed. He lived in chambers which had once belonged to his deceased partner. They were a gloomy suite of rooms, in a lowering pile of building up a yard, where it had so little business to be, that one could scarcely help fancying it must have run there when it was a young house, playing at hide.and.seek with other houses, and forgotten the way out again. It was old enough now, and dreary enough, for nobody lived in it but Robotnik, the other rooms being all let out as offices. The yard was so dark that even Robotnik, who knew its every stone, was fain to grope with his hands. The fog and frost so hung about the black old gateway of the house, that it seemed as if the Genius of the Weather sat in mournful meditation on the threshold.

Now, it is a fact, that there was nothing at all particular about the knocker on the door, except that it was very large. It is also a fact, that Robotnik had seen it, night and morning, during his whole residence in that place; also thatRobotnik had as little of what is called fancy about him as any man in the city of Mobius, even including-which is a bold word- the corporation, aldermen, and livery. Let it also be borne in mind that Robotnik had not bestowed one thought on Nack, since his last mention of his one year's dead partner that afternoon. And then let any man explain to me, if he can, how it happened that Robotnik , having his key in the lock of the door, saw in the knocker, without its undergoing any intermediate process of change-not a knocker, but Nack's face. It was not in impenetrable shadow as the other objects in the yard were, but had a dismal light about it, like a bad lobster in a dark cellar. It was not angry or ferocious, but looked atRobotnik as Nack Marley used to look: with ghostly spectacles turned up on its ghostly forehead. Thefur was curiously stirred, as if by breath or hot air; and, though the eyes were wide open, they were perfectly motionless. That, and its livid colour, made it horrible; but its horror seemed to be in spite of the face and beyond its control, rather than a part of its own expression.

"SCR-OO-OO-OO-OO-OGE!" cried the mysterious, creepy, eerie, shadowy voice.

As Robotnik looked fixedly at this phenomenon, it was a knocker again.

"SCR-OO-OO-OO-OO-OGE! EEEEE-BEEEN-EEEEE-ZEEERRRRRSCR-OO-OO-OO-OO-OGE!"

To say that he was not startled, or that his blood was not conscious of a terrible sensation to which it had been a stranger from infancy, would be untrue. But he put his hand upon the key he had relinquished, turned it sturdily, walked in, and lighted his candle.

"SCR-OO-OO-OO-OO-OGE!"

He did pause, with a moment's irresolution, before he shut the door; and he did look cautiously behind it first, as if he half expected to be terrified with the sight of Nack Marley'sfur sticking out into the hall. But there was nothing on the back of the door, except the screws and nuts that held the knocker on, so he said ''Bah!'' and closed it with a bang.

"EEEEEEE-BEENNNNN-EEEEZZZ-EEERRR SCR-OOOOOO-OOOO-OOOOGE!"

The sound resounded through the house like thunder. Every room above, and every cask in the wine-merchant's cellars below, appeared to have a separate peal of echoes of its own. Robotnik was not a man to be frightened by echoes. He fastened the door, and walked across the hall, and up the stairs; slowly too: trimming his candle as he went.

"EEEEEEE-BEEEEE-NEEEE-ZZZZZEEERRRR SSSSSCRRR-OOOOGE!"

You may talk vaguely about driving a coach-and-six up a good old flight of stairs, or through a bad young Act of Parliament; but I mean to say you might have got a hearse up that staircase, and taken it broadwise, with the splinter-bar towards the wall and the door towards the balustrades: and done it easy. There was plenty of width for that, and room to spare; which is perhaps the reason why Robotnik thought he saw a locomotive hearse going on before him in the gloom. Half-a-dozen gas-lamps out of the street wouldn't have lighted the entry too well, so you may suppose that it was pretty dark with Robotnik's dip.

Shing…shing, shing…CLUNK!

"SCROO-OO-OOOOO-GE!"

Up Robotnik went, not caring a button for that. Darkness is cheap, and that was the way Robotnik liked it. But before he shut his heavy door, he walked through his rooms to see that all was right. He had just enough recollection of the face to desire to do that.

"SCR-OOOOO-OOOOOGE!"

Sitting-room, bed-room, lumber-room. All as they should be. Nobody under the table, nobody under the sofa; a small fire in the grate; spoon and basin ready; and the little saucepan of gruel upon the hob. Nobody under the bed; nobody in the closet'; nobody in his dressing-gown, which was hanging up in a suspicious attitude against the wall. Lumber-room as usual.

Shing…shing, shing…CLUNK!

"SCROO-OO-OOOOO-GE!"

Quite satisfied, he closed his door, and locked himself in; double-locked himself in, which was not his custom. Thus secured against surprise, he took off his cravat; put on his dressing-gown and slippers, and his nightcap; and sat down before the fire to take his gruel.

"EEEEEEE-BEEEEE-NEEEE-ZZZZZEEERRRR SSSSSCRRR-OOOOGE!"

It was a very low fire indeed; nothing on such a bitter night. He was obliged to sit close to it, and brood over it, before he could extract the least sensation of warmth from such a handful of fuel. If each smooth tile had been a blank at first, with power to shape some picture on its surface from the disjointed fragments of his thoughts, there would have been a copy of old Nack Marley's head on every one.

'Humbug!' said Robotnik; and walked across the room.

After several turns, he sat down again. As he threw his head back in the chair, his glance happened to rest upon a bell, a disused bell, that hung in the room, and communicated for some purpose now forgotten with a chamber in the highest story of the building. It was with great astonishment, and with a strange, inexplicable dread, that as he looked, he saw this bell begin to swing. It swung so softly in the outset that it scarcely made a sound; but soon it rang out loudly, and so did every bell in the house.

This might have lasted half a minute, or a minute, but it seemed an hour. The bells ceased as they had begun, together. They were succeeded by a clanking noise, deep down below; as if some person were dragging a heavy chain over the casks in the wine-merchant's cellar.Robotnik then remembered to have heard that ghosts in haunted houses were described as dragging chains.

The cellar-door flew open with a booming sound, and then he heard the noise much louder, on the floors below; then coming up the stairs; then coming straight towards his door.

''It's humbug still!'' said Robotnik. ''I won't believe it.''

His colour changed though, when, without a pause, it came on through the heavy door, and passed into the room before his eyes. Upon its coming in, the dying flame leaped up, as though it cried, ''I know him!'' and fell again.

"EEEEEB-EEE-NEEEE-ZZZZEEERRR SCR-OOOOOO-GE!"

  


Nack Marley, the purple sly weasel who was a boundary thief! The chain he drew was clasped about his middle. It was long, and wound about him like a tail; and it was made of cash-boxes, keys, padlocks, ledgers, deeds, and heavy purses wrought in steel. His body was transparent; so that Robotnik, observing him, and looking through his waistcoat, could see the two buttons on his coat behind.

Robotnik had often heard it said that Nack Marley had no bowels, but he had never believed it until now.

No, nor did he believe it even now. Though he looked the phantom through and through, and saw it standing before him; though he felt the chilling influence of its death-cold eyes; and marked the very texture of the folded kerchief bound about its head and chin, which wrapper he had not observed before; he was still incredulous, and fought against his senses.

'How now.' said Robotnik, caustic and cold as ever. 'What do you want with me?'

''Much.''-Nack Marley's voice, no doubt about it.

'Who are you?'

''Will you just ask me who I was.''

''I ALREADY ASKED WHO YOU ARE, YOU IDIOT!'' said Robotnik, raising his voice. ''You're particular, to a shade.''

''In life I was your partner, Jacob Marley, fatso.''

''Can you-can you sit down?'' asked Robotnik, looking doubtfully at him.

''Yeah, I can.''

''Do it, then.''

Robotnik asked the question, because he didn't know whether a ghost so transparent might find himself in a condition to take a chair; and felt that in the event of its being impossible, it might involve the necessity of an embarrassing explanation. But the ghost sat down on the opposite side of the fireplace, as if he were quite used to it.

''You don't believe in me,'' observed Nack's ghost.

''I don't, and I never will!" scoffed Robotnik.

''What evidence would you have of my reality beyond that of your senses?''

''I don't know,'' muttered Robotnik.

''Why do you doubt your senses?''

''Because, you mangy ghost...'' said Robotnik,

''a little thing affects them. A slight disorder of the stomach makes them cheats. You may be an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato. There's more of gravy than of grave about you, whatever you are!''

Robotnik was not much in the habit of cracking jokes, nor did he feel, in his heart, by any means waggish then. The truth is, that he tried to be smart, as a means of distracting his own attention, and keeping down his terror; for the weasel spectre's voice disturbed the very marrow in his bones.

To sit, staring at those fixed glazed eyes, in silence for a moment, would play, Robotnik felt, the very deuce with him. There was something very awful, too, in the spectre's being provided with an infernal atmosphere of its own.Robotnik could not feel it himself, but this was clearly the case; for though the Ghost sat perfectly motionless, its hair, and skirts, and tassels, were still agitated as by the hot vapour from an oven.

''You see this toothpick.'' said Robotnik, returning quickly to the charge, for the reason just assigned; and wishing, though it were only for a second, to divert the vision's stony gaze from himself.

''I do,'' replied Nack.

''You are not looking at it,'' said Robotnik.

''But I see it,'' said Nack, ''not withstanding.''

''Well.'' returned Robotnik,

''I have but to swallow this, and be for the rest of my days persecuted by a legion of goblins, all of my own creation. Humbug, I tell you. HUMBUG!''

At this the weasel spirit raised a frightful cry, and shook its chain with such a dismal and appalling noise, thatRobotnik held on tight to his chair, to save himself from falling in a swoon. But how much greater was his horror, when the phantom taking off the bandage round its head, as if it were too warm to wear in-doors, its lower jaw dropped down upon its breast.

Robotnik fell upon his knees, and clasped his hands before his face.

''Mercy!'' he said. ''Dreadful apparition, why do you trouble me?''

''Man of the worldly mind!'' replied the weasel ghost, ''do you believe in me or not? ANSWER ME!''

''I do,'' said Robotnik. ''I must. But why do spirits walk the earth, and why do they come to me?''

"GOOD!" shouted Nack. "All, right, listen up, Scrooge! It is required of every man, that the spirit within him should walk abroad among his fellow-men, and travel far and wide; and if that spirit goes not forth in life, it is condemned to do so after death. It is doomed to wander through the world-oh, woe is me!-and witness what it cannot share, but might have shared on earth, and turned to happiness.''

Again the spectre raised a cry, and shook its chain and wrung its shadowy hands.

'You are fettered,' said Scrooge, trembling. 'Tell me why?'

'I wear the chain I forged in life,' replied the Ghost. 'I made it link by link, and yard by yard; I girded it on of my own free will, and of my own free will I wore it. Is irs pattern strange to you?''

Scrooge trembled more and more.

'Or would you know,' pursued the Ghost, ''the weight and length of the strong coil you bear yourself? It was full as heavy and as long as this,last Christmas Eve. You have laboured on it, since. It is a ponderous chain!''

Robotnik glanced about him on the floor, in the expectation of finding himself surrounded by some fifty or sixty fathoms of iron cable: but he could see nothing.

''Jacob,'' he said, imploringly. ''Old Jacob Marley, tell me more. Speak comfort to me, Jacob.''

''I have none to give,'' the weasel ghost replied. ''It comes from other regions, Ebenezer Scrooge, and is conveyed by other ministers, to other kinds of men. Nor can I tell you what I would. A very little more is all permitted to me. I cannot rest, I cannot stay, I cannot linger anywhere. I am now forced to carry these chains throughout eternity for my wicked deeds as punishment.''

It was a habit with Robotnik, whenever he became thoughtful, to put his hands in his breeches pockets. Pondering on what the Ghost had said, he did so now, but without lifting up his eyes, or getting off his knees.

'You must have been very slow about it, Jacob,' Robotnikobserved, in a business-like manner, though with humility and deference.

''Slow!'' the Ghost repeated.

"One year dead,'' mused Robotnik. ''And travelling all the time?''

'The whole time,' said the Ghost. ''No rest, no peace. Incessant torture of remorse.''

''You travel fast?'' said Robotnik.

''On the wings of the wind,'' replied the Ghost.

''You might have got over a great quantity of ground in one year,'' said Robotnik.

The Ghost, on hearing this, set up another cry, and clanked its chain so hideously in the dead silence of the night, that the Ward would have been justified in indicting it for a nuisance.

''Oh! captive, bound, and double-ironed,'' cried the phantom, ''not to know, that ages of incessant labour by immortal creatures, for this earth must pass into eternity before the good of which it is susceptible is all developed! Not to know that any Christian spirit working kindly in its little sphere, whatever it may be, will find its mortal life too short for its vast means of usefulness! Not to know that no space of regret can make amends for one life's opportunity misused! Yet such was I! Oh! such was I!''

''But you were always a good man of business, Jacob,'' faltered Robotnik, who now began to apply this to himself.

''Business!'' cried the Ghost, wringing its hands again. ''Mankind was my business. The common welfare was my business; charity, mercy, forbearance, and benevolence, were, all, my business. The dealings of my trade were but a drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of my business!''

It held up its chain at arm's length, as if that were the cause of all its unavailing grief, and flung it heavily upon the ground again.

''At this time of the rolling year,'' the spectre said, ''I suffer most. Why did I walk through crowds of fellow-beings with my eyes turned down, and never raise them to that blessed Star which led the Wise Men to a poor abode? Were there no poor homes to which its light would have conducted me?''

Robotnik was very much dismayed to hear the spectre going on at this rate, and began to quake exceedingly.

''Hear me!'' cried the Ghost. ''My time is nearly gone.''

'I will,' said Robotnik. ''But don't be hard upon me. Don't be flowery, Jacob! Pray!''

''How it is that I appear before you in a shape that you can see, I may not tell. I have sat invisible beside you many and many a day.''

It was not an agreeable idea.Robotnik shivered, and wiped the perspiration from his brow.

''That is no light part of my penance,'' pursued the Ghost. ''I am here to-night to warn you, that you have yet a chance and hope of escaping my fate. A chance and hope of my procuring, Ebenezer.''

''You were always a good friend to me,'' said Robotnik

''LISTEN UP, FATSO! You will be visited and haunted,'' resumed the weasel ghost, ''by Three Spirits. Listen to them, and do what they say-or y-your chains will be heavier than mine in the afterlife!''

Robotnik's countenance fell almost as low as the Ghost's had done.

''Is that the chance and hope you mentioned, Jacob?'' he demanded, in a faltering voice.

''It is.''

''I-I think I'd rather not,'' said Robotnik.

''Without their visits,'' said the Ghost, ''There is no way you can hope to shun the path I tread. Expect the first tonight, when the bell tolls One.''

''Couldn't I take them all at once, and have it over, Jacob?'' hinted Robotnik.

''Expect the second ghost when the bell tolls two. The third ghostwill come for you when thebell tolls three. Look to see me no more; and look that, for your own sake, you remember what has passed between us! Farewell, Ebenezer Scrooge!" said Nack as he began to leave.

When it had said these words, the spectre took its wrapper from the table, and bound it round its head, as before.Robotnik knew this, by the smart sound its teeth made, when the jaws were brought together by the bandage. He ventured to raise his eyes again, and found his supernatural visitor confronting him in an erect attitude, with its chain wound over and about its arm.

The weasel apparition walked backward from him; and at every step it took, the window raised itself a little, so that when the spectre reached it, it was wide open.

It beckonedRobotnik to approach, which he did. When they were within two paces of each other, Nack Marley's Ghost held up its hand, warning him to come no nearer.Robotnik stopped.

Not so much in obedience, as in surprise and fear: for on the raising of the hand, he became sensible of confused noises in the air; incoherent sounds of lamentation and regret; wailings inexpressibly sorrowful and self-accusatory. The spectre, after listening for a moment, joined in the mournful dirge; and floated out upon the bleak, dark night.

Robotnik followed to the window: desperate in his curiosity. He looked out.

The air was filled with phantoms, wandering hither and thither in restless haste, and moaning as they went. Every one of them wore chains like Nack's Ghost; some few were linked together; none of them were free.

Many had been personally known to Robotnik in their lives. He had been quite familiar with one old ghost, in a white waistcoat, with a monstrous iron safe attached to its ankle, who cried piteously at being unable to assist a wretched woman with an infant, whom it saw below, upon a doorstep- The misery with them all was, clearly, that they sought to interfere, for good, in human matters, and had lost the power for ever.

Whether these creatures faded into mist, or mist enshrouded them, he could not tell. But they and their spirit voices faded together; and the night became as it had been when he walked home.

Robotnik closed the window, and examined the door by which Nack had entered. It was double-locked, as he had locked it with his own hands, and the bolts were undisturbed. "HUMBUG!" hemuttered bitterly.And being, from the emotion he had undergone, or the fatigues of the day, or his glimpse of the Invisible World, or the dull conversation of the Ghost, or the lateness of the hour, much in need of repose; went straight to bed, without undressing, and fell asleep upon the instant.

"It's time to get some shut-eye," he said to himself.


	3. Ghost of Christmas Past: Sonia

**_Ghost of Christmas Past_**

_Injection Fairy Lily: There are some parts that are going to be completely different!_

* * *

When Robotnik awoke, it was so dark, that looking out of bed, he could scarcely distinguish the transparent window from the opaque walls of his chamber. He was endeavouring to pierce the darkness with his ferret eyes, when the chimes of a neighbouring church struck the four quarters. So he listened for the hour. 

To his great astonishment the heavy bell went on from six to seven, and from seven to eight, and regularly up to twelve; then stopped. Twelve! It was past two when he went to bed. The clock was wrong. An icicle must have got into the works. Twelve!

He touched the spring of his repeater, to correct this most preposterous clock. Its rapid little pulse beat twelve: and stopped.

"Bah, humbug it's all just a stupid dream,'' said Robotnik, "Ghosts are all such nonsense! Bah, humbug!''

The idea being an alarming one, he scrambled out of bed, and groped his way to the window. He was obliged to rub the frost off with the sleeve of his dressing-gown before he could see anything; and could see very little then. All he could make out was, that it was still very foggy and extremely cold, and that there was no noise of people running about, and making a great stir, as there unquestionably would have been if night had beaten off bright day, and taken possession of the world. This was a great relief, because "Three days after sight of this First of Exchange pay to this selfish manor his order," and so forth, would have become a mere Casino Night Zone security if there were no days to count by.

Robotnik went to bed again, and thought, and thought, and thought it over and over, and could make nothing of it. The more he thought, the more perplexed he was; and, the more he endeavoured not to think, the more he thought.

Nack Marley's Ghost bothered him and tormented him exceedingly. Every time he resolved within himself, after mature inquiry, that it was all a dream, his mind flew back again, like a strong spring released, to its first position, and presented the same problem to be worked all through, ''Was it a dream or not? ''

Robotnik lay in this state until the chime had gone three quarters more, when he remembered, on a sudden, that the Ghost had warned him of a visitation when the bell tolled one. He resolved to lie awake until the hour was passed; and, conidering that he could no more go to sleep than go to Heaven, this was, perhaps, the wisest resolution in his power.

The quarter was so long, that he was more than once convinced he must have sunk into a doze unconsciously, and missed the clock. At length it broke upon his listening ear.

**DING,DONG!**

''A quarter past,'' said Robotnik, counting.

**DING! DONG!**

''Half-past!'' said Robotnik, grumbling.

**Ding, dong!**

''Aquarter to it,''said Robotnik, still grumbling.

**Ding, dong!**

''The hour itself,''said Robotnik, still grumbling,''and nothing else!''

He spoke before the hour bell sounded, which it now did with a deep, dull, hollow, melancholy One. Light flashed up in the room upon the instant, and the curtains of his bed were drawn.

The curtains of his bed were drawn aside, I tell you, by a hand. Not the curtains at his feet, nor the curtains at his back, but those to which his face was addressed. The curtains of his bed were drawn aside; and Scrooge, starting up into a half-recumbent attitude, found himself face to face with the unearthly visitor who drew them: as close to it as I am now to you, and I am standing in the spirit at your elbow.

It was a strange figure-like ahedgehog; the hedgehog figure was a female, and looked like Sonic the hedgehog's sister, Sonia; and she viewed through some supernatural medium, which gave her the appearance of having receded from the view, and being diminished to a hedgehog's proportions. Her hair, which hung about her neck and down her back, was fluffy; and yet the face had not a wrinkle in it, and the tenderest bloom was on the skin. The arms were very long and muscular; the hands the same, as if her hold were of uncommon strength. She stood 3'2" tall She wore a tunic of the purest white, covered with sequins; and round her waist was bound a lustrous belt which was covered with diamonds, the sheen of which was beautiful. She held a branch of fresh green holly in her hand; and, in singular contradiction of that wintry emblem, had her dress trimmed with summer flowers. But the strangest thing about her was, that from the crown of her head there sprung a bright clear jet of light, by which all this was visible. She was also holding a small, silver pocket-sized keyboard in her hand.

''Are you the Spirit, young lady, whose coming was foretold to me?'' asked Robotnik.

"IS THAT A STUPID QUESTION!" shouted Sonia, annoyed. "Well, of course I am, stupid!"

Singularly low, as if instead of being so close beside him, it were at a distance.

''Who, and what are you?''Robotnik demanded.

''Tch! Like, I am the Ghost of Christmas Past. DUH!"

''Long Past?'' inquired Robotnik: observant of its dwarfish stature.

"No, you idiot! Like, _Your PAST! You know, on the day you were born and bred, where you grew up, where and when you went to school, and stuff like that! SHEESH!" shouted Sonia, as she threw her arms in the air, completely annoyed._

Robotnik reverently disclaimed all intention to offend or any knowledge of having wilfully bonneted the Spirit hedgehog at any period of his life. He then made bold to inquire what business brought him there.

''Your welfare! DUH!'' said Sonia, as she nudged Robotnik with her elbow.

Robotnik expressed himself much obliged, but could not help thinking that a night of unbroken rest would have been more conducive to that end. The Spirit must have heard him thinking, for it said immediately:

''Your reclamation, then. Take heed!''

She put out her strong hand as she spoke, and clasped him gently by the arm.

''Rise! and walk with me!''

It would have been in vain for Robotnik to plead that the weather and the hour were not adapted to pedestrian purposes; that bed was warm, and the thermometer a long way below freezing; that he was clad but lightly in his slippers, dressing-gown, and nightcap and his robe; and that he had a cold upon him at that time. The grasp, though gentle as a woman's hand, was not to be resisted. He rose: but finding that the Spirit hedgehog made towards the window, clasped the robe in supplication.

''I am mortal, you idiot!''Robotnik remonstrated, ''and liable to fall and break my neck.''

''Bear but a touch of my hand there,'' said the Spirit hedgehog, laying it upon the heart, ''and you shall be upheld in more than this!''

She pulled out her small keyboard, and she played a little song, which was a tune to, "God Rest Ye Merry Gentle Men".

As the song was played, they passed through the wall, and stood upon an open country road, with fields on either hand. The city had entirely vanished. Not a vestige of it was to be seen. The darkness and the mist had vanished with it, for it was a clear, cold, winter day, with snow upon the ground.

''Good Heaven!' said Robotnik, clasping his hands together, as he looked about him. ''I was bred in this place. I was a boy here!'

The Spiritual hedgehog gazed upon him mildly. Her gentle touch, though it had been light and instantaneous, appeared still present to the fat tyrant's sense of feeling. He was conscious of a thousand odours floating in the air, each one connected with a thousand thoughts, and hopes, and joys, and cares long, long, forgotten.

''Your lip is trembling,'' said Sonia, with her hands to her hips, and tapping her foot. ''And what is that upon your cheek?''

Robotnik muttered, with an unusual catching in his voice, that it was a pimple; and begged the Hedgehog Ghost to lead him where he would.

'You recollect the way?' inquired the Spiritual hedgehog. "Well?"

''Remember it!' cried Robotnik with fervour; '' I could walk it blindfold.''

''Strange to have forgotten it for so many years!'' observed the Ghostly hedgehog. ''Come on, let's move on!''

They walked along the road, Robotnik recognising every gate, and post, and tree; until a little market-town appeared in the distance, with its bridge, its church, and winding river. Some shaggy ponies now were seen trotting towards them with boys upon their backs, who called to other boys in country gigs and carts, driven by farmers. All these boys were in great spirits, and shouted to each other, until the broad fields were so full of merry music, that the crisp air laughed to hear it.

''These are but shadows of the things that have been,'' said the Ghost. ''They have no consciousness of us.''

The jocund travellers came on; and as they came, Robotnik knew and named them every one. Why was he rejoiced beyond all bounds to see them? Why did his cold eye glisten, and his heart leap up as they went past? Why was he filled with gladness when he heard them give each other Merry Christmas, as they parted at crossroads and byeways, for their several homes? What was merry Christmas to Scrooge? Out upon merry Christmas! What good had it ever done to him?

''The school is not quite deserted,'' said Sonia, as she elbowed Robotnik. ''A solitary child, neglected by his friends, is left there still, and nobody wants him-that's you, right?''

"Everybody hates me!" said a sad, lonely voice. Robotnik knew that voice. "Well, come on!" cried Sonia, as she played another melody on her small keyboard, which was the tune to "Silent Night,"

They went, Sonia and Robotnik, across the hall, to a door at the back of the house. It opened before them, and disclosed a long, bare, melancholy room, made barer still by lines of plain deal forms and desks. At one of these a lonely boy was reading near a feeble fire; and Robotnik sat down upon a form, and wept to see his poor forgotten self as he used to be.

Not a latent echo in the house, not a squeak and scuffle from the mice, cockroaches, and rats behind the panelling, not a drip from the half-thawed water-spout in the dull yard behind, not a sigh among the leafless boughs of one despondent poplar, not the idle swinging of an empty store-house door, no, not a clicking in the fire, but fell upon the heart of Robotnik with a softening influence, and gave a freer passage to his tears.

The Spiritual hedgehog touched him on the arm, and pointed to his younger self, intent upon his reading. Suddenly a man, in foreign garments: wonderfully real and distinct to look at: stood outside the window, with an axe stuck in his belt, and leading by the bridle a donkey laden with wood.

"I was all alone in this world," said Robotnik, as he burst into tears. "All my friends deserted me, abandoned me..."

To hear Robotnik expending all the earnestness of his nature on such subjects, in a most extraordinary voice between laughing and crying; and to see his heightened and excited face; would have been a surprise to his business friends in the city, indeed.

''No one was there to hold my hand!'' cried Robotnik. ''I was miserable and I was rejected, with no one to care about me! Poor me! Poor me! Poor-"

"OKAY, OKAY, OKAY, I get it already! Enough!" shouted Sonia as she slapped him silly.

The door opened; and a little girl opossum, much younger than the boy, came darting in, and putting her arms about his neck, and often kissing him, addressed him as her 'Dear, dear brother.'

''I have come to bring you home, dear brother!'' said Miss Opossum, clapping her tiny hands, and bending down to laugh. ''To bring you home, home, home!''

''Home, little Fan?'' returned Junior Robotnik.

''Why, yes!'' said the opossum, brimful of glee. ''Home, for good and all. Home, forevermore! Father is so much kinder than he used to be, that home's like Heaven! Home is like paradise! He spoke so gently to me one dear night when I was going to bed, that I was not afraid to ask him once more if you might come home; and he said Yes, you should; and sent me in a coach to bring you. And you're to be a man!'' said Miss Opossum, opening her eyes,'' and are never to come back here; but first, we're to be together all the Christmas long, and have the merriest time in all the world. I will never leave you! What are you waiting for?''

''You are quite a woman, little Fan!'' exclaimed Junior Robotnik.

She squealed, clapped her hands and laughed, and tried to touch his head; but being too little, laughed again, and sood on tiptoe to embrace him. Then she began to drag him, in her childish eagerness, towards the door; and he, nothing loth to go, accompanied her.

A terrible voice in the hall cried. ''Bring down Master Scrooge's box, there!'' and in the hall appeared the schoolmaster himself, who glared on Junior Robotnik with a ferocious condescension, and threw him into a dreadful state of mind by shaking hands with him. He then conveyed him and Miss Opossum into the veriest old well of a shivering best-parlour that ever was seen, where the maps upon the wall, and the celestial and terrestrial globes in the windows, were waxy with cold. Here he produced a decanter of curiously light wine, and a block of curiously heavy cake, and administered instalments of those dainties to the young people: at the same time, sending out a meagre servant to offer a glass of something to the postboy, who answered that he thanked the gentleman, but if it was the same tap as he had tasted before, he had rather not. Junior Robotnik's trunk being by this time tied on to the top of the chaise, the children bade the schoolmaster good-bye right willingly; and getting into it, drove gaily down the garden-sweep: the quick wheels dashing the hoar-frost and snow from off the dark leaves of the evergreens like spray.

''Always a delicate creature, whom a breath might have withered,'' said the Ghost. ''But she had a large heart.''

''So she had,'' cried Robotnik. ''You're right. I will not gain say it, Spirit. God forbid! She DID leave me!''

''She, died a woman, right?'' said Sonia, ''and had, as I come to totally believe, children, am I right?''

''One child,'' Robotnik returned.

''True,'' said Sonia. ''Like, your nephew, DUH!''

Scrooge seemed uneasy in his mind; and answered briefly, ''Yes.''

Although they had but that moment left the school behind them, they were now in the busy thoroughfares of a city, where shadowy passengers passed and repassed; where shadowy carts and coaches battle for the way, and all the strife and tumult of a real city were. It was made plain enough, by the dressing of the shops, that here too it was Christmas time again; but it was evening, and the streets were lighted up.

"Does this, like ring a bell to you, Scrooge?" asked Sonia.

''Know it!' said Robotnik. 'Was I apprenticed here?''

"DUH! You were!" said Sonia.

They went in. At sight of Mr. Crane in a Welsh wig, sitting behind such a high desk, that if he had been two inches taller he must have knocked his head against the ceiling, Robotnik cried in great excitement:

'Why, it's old Fezziwig! Bless his heart; it's Fezziwig alive again!'

Mr. Crane laid down his pen, and looked up at the clock, which pointed to the hour of seven. He rubbed his hands; adjusted his capacious waistcoat; laughed all over himself, from his shoes to his organ of benevolence; and called out in a comfortable, oily, rich, fat, jovial voice:

''Yo ho, there! Ebenezer! Dick!''

Robotnik's former self, now grown a young man, came briskly in, accompanied by his fellow-prentice.

''Dick Wilkins, to be sure.'' said Robotnik to the Ghostly hedgehog. ''Bless me, yes. There he is. He was very much attached to me, was Dick. Poor Dick. Dear, dear.'

'Yo ho, my boys!' said Mr. Crane, as he clasped his hands. ''No more work tonight. Christmas Eve, Dick. Christmas, Ebenezer! Let's have the shutters up,'' cried old Mr.Crane, with a sharp clap of his hands, ''before a man can say Chaos Control!''

You wouldn't believe how those two fellows went at it. They charged into the street with the shutters-one, two, three-had them up in their places-four, five, six-barred them and pinned then-seven, eight, nine-and came back before you could have got to twelve, panting like race-horses.

''Hilli-ho!'' cried old Mr.Crane, skipping down from the high desk, with wonderful agility. ''Clear away, my lads, and let's have lots of room here! Hilli-ho, Dick! Chirrup, Ebenezer! It's time to PAR-TAY!''

Clear away! There was nothing they wouldn't have cleared away, or couldn't have cleared away, with old Mr. Crane looking on. It was done in a minute. Every movable was packed off, as if it were dismissed from public life for evermore; the floor was swept and watered, the lamps were trimmed, fuel was heaped upon the fire; and the warehouse was as snug, and warm, and dry, and bright a ball-room, as you would desire to see upon a winter's night.

In came a fiddler with a music-book, and went up to the lofty desk, and made an orchestra of it, and tuned like fifty stomach-aches. In came Mrs. Crane one vast substantial smile. In came the three women, beaming and lovable. In came Ash the Mongoose, Bean the Dynamite, Shortfuse, Tekno, Bark the Polarbear, and Johnny Lightfoot whose hearts they broke. In camePorker Lewis, Argus, Ari, Bartleby, Big the Cat, Clive the Donkey, Elias Acorn,and Mina the Mongoose, Fiona Fox, and Dulcy Dragon. In came Bunnie Rabbot, with Mad Mike and Big Griz. In came the cook, with Rotor's particular friend, Antoine. In came the MacHopper from over the way, who was suspected of not having board enough from his master; trying to hide himself behind Hershey from next door but one, who was proved to have had her ears pulled by her mistress. In they all came, one after nother; some shyly, some boldly, some gracefully, some awkwardly, some pushing, some pulling; in they all came, anyhow and everyhow. Away they all went, twenty couple at once; hands half round and back again the other way; down the middle and up again; round and round in various stages of affectionate grouping; old top couple always turning up in the wrong place; new top couple starting off again, as soon as they got there; all top couples at last, and not a bottom one to help them.

When this result was brought about, Mr. Crane, clapping his hands to stop the dance, cried out, ''Well done.'' and the fiddler plunged his hot face into a pot of porter, especially provided for that purpose. But scorning rest, upon his reappearance, he instantly began again, though there were no dancers yet, as if the other fiddler had been carried home, exhausted, on a shutter, and he were a bran-new man resolved to beat him out of sight, or perish.

There were more dances, and there were forfeits, and more dances, and there was delicious black forest cake, and there was turkey, and there was a great piece of Cold Roast, and there was a great piece of Cold Boiled, and there were mince-pies, and plenty of cocktails. But the great effect of the evening came after the Roast and Boiled, when the fiddler struck up '' Sleigh Ride.''

Then Mr. Crane stood out to dance with Mrs Crane. Top couple, too; with a good stiff piece of work cut out for them; three or four and twenty pair of partners; people who were not to be trifled with; people who would dance, and had no notion of walking.

But if they had been twice as many-ah, four times-Mr. Crane would have been a match for them, and so would Mrs Crane. As to her, she was worthy to be his partner in every sense of the term. If that's not high praise, tell me higher, and I'll use it. A positive light appeared to issue from Fezziwig's calves. They shone in every part of the dance like moons. You couldn't have predicted, at any given time, what would have become of them next. And when old Mr. and Mrs. Crane had gone all through the dance; on one, on two, en-clave, top spin, natural turn, reverse turn, impetus, square dance, hokey pokey, chicken dance, breakdancing, mambo, samba, both hands to your partner, mashed potatoes, bow and curtsey, corkscrew, arabeques, electric slide, cha-cha-cha, thread-the-needle, the moonwalk, and back again to your place; Mr. Crane 'cut'-cut so deftly, that he appeared to wink with his long legs, and came upon his feet again without a stagger.

When the clock struck eleven, this domestic ball broke up. Mr and Mrs. Crane took their stations, one on either side of the door, and shaking hands with every person individually as he or she went out, wished him or her a Merry Christmas. When everybody had retired but the two prentices, they did the same to them; and thus the cheerful voices died away, and the lads were left to their beds; which were under a counter in the back-shop.

During the whole of this time, Robotnik had acted like a man out of his wits. His heart and soul were in the scene, and with his former self. He corroborated everything, remembered everything, enjoyed everything, and underwent the strangest agitation. It was not until now, when the bright faces of his former self andWarpnik were turned from them, that he remembered the Ghostly hedgehog, and became conscious that it was looking full upon him, while the light upon its head burnt very clear.

''A small matter,'' said Sonia, ''to make these silly folks so full of gratitude.''

''Small!'' echoed Robotnik.

The Spiritual hedgehog signed to him to listen to the two apprentices, who were pouring out their hearts in praise of Mr. Crane: and when he had done so, said, ''Why! Is it not? He has spent but a few pounds of your mortal money: three or four perhaps. Is that so much that he deserves this praise?''

''It isn't that,'' said Robotnik, heated by the remark, and speaking unconsciously like his former, not his latter, self. ''It isn't that, Spirit. He has the power to render us happy or unhappy; to make our service light or burdensome; a pleasure or a toil. Say that his power lies in words and looks; in things so slight and insignificant that it is impossible to add and count them up: what then? The happiness he gives, is quite as great as if it cost a fortune.''

He felt the Spiritual hedgehog's glance, and stopped.

''What is the matter?'' asked the Ghostly hedgehog, with her hands on her hips.

''Nothing in particular,'' said Robotnik.

''Something, I think?'' the Ghostly hedgehog insisted as she tapped her foot.

''No,'' said Robotnik, ''No. I should like to be able to say a word or two to my clerk just now. That's all.''

"I just thought so." sighed Sonia.

His former self turned down the lamps as he gave utterance to the wish; andRobotnik and theGhostly hedgehog again stood side by side in the open air.

''Hey! My time's growingshort,'' observed the Spriritual hedgehog. ''Quick!''

Then Sonia waited for Robotnik at the window to show him something. "Does this, like ring a bell to you?" she asked as she pointed in the window to a fair maiden named Lucinda, sitting next to fairly young Scrooge. She cleared her throat loud enough for him to hear.

He turned and faced her, "Yes?" he asked.

"Ebenezer?" she said, "I want you to know that, well, I had my eye on you for a pretty long time!"

"Really?" he asked startled to know that someone looked onto him.

"That's...that's Belle!" cried older Robotnik.

Young Robotnik got up and walked up and sat next to her. "You...want to dance?" he asked her.

"Absolutely!" Lucinda answered standing up. They walked out to the dance floor and danced around.

Older Robotnik watched them, sighing, "I really loved her," he said.

"Well, in 10 years time, you learned to learn something else! That was before you became a miserable miser, consumed by selfishness and greed!" scolded Sonia, as she shook her finger.

"Well," said Robotnik, sheepishly. "No one's perfect..."

They were at his house. Young Robotnik sat at a desk counting his money.

"What am I sitting there for?" he asked the hedgehog spirit.

"This is when you were greedy and selfish!" Sonia answered.

Just then, Lucinda charged in, without even knocking! She walked up to Robotnik his desk.

"Ebenezer!" Lucinda cried out, "I've been waiting for you to make up your mind! Have you finally decided to marry me yet?"

Robotnik looked up, "What is it? Can't you see that I'm busy?"

"Busy doing what? Counting your money? Did you forget we were going out tonight? That's the forth time this week!"

"Oh, sorry. It won't happen again, now leave me be. I need to get back to work!"

Poor Lucinda was hurt and heartbroken. "B-but,...you said...you cared about me..."

Young Robotnik pulled a document. "You are two hours late! And the honeymoon cottage is foreclosed!"

"No..." gasped Lucinda, as she found it hard to believe what he had said.

She gently pulled the ring off her finger and dropped it on his desk and she fled out of the counting house in tears.

"You loved your money a lot more than that girl, and in a result, you lost her forever!" Sonia pointed out. "She married someone else!" She showed the man that Lucinda had married, and that was Lucas, and they had a very happy home and a very happy life.

''Spirit! Remove me from this place, I beg of you! PLEASE! Remove me! I cannot bear it! Leave me! Take me back! Haunt me no longer!'' begged Robotnik as he clasped his hands and got down onto his knees, kissing Sonia's toes. "I'll do anything! Please don't haunt me anymore!"

"Well, all right, ya big baby!" sighed Sonia, as she rolled her eyes and started poking Robotnik in the belly. "But remember, Scrooge, you just, like...fashioned those memories yourself...yourself, yourself, yourself, yourself..."

And when Robotnik woke up, Sonia was gone. "Well, it was just a dream...or was it?" he said to himself.


	4. Ghost of Christmas Present: Manic

**_Ghost of Christmas Present_**

_Injection Fairy Lily: There are some parts that are going to be completely different just like in the last chapter, and the same will be in the next chapters!_

* * *

Awaking in the middle of a prodigiously tough snore, and sitting up in bed to get his thoughts together, Robotnik had no occasion to be told that the bell was again upon the stroke of One. He felt that he was restored to consciousness in the right nick of time, for the especial purpose of holding a conference with the second messenger despatched to him through Nack Marley's intervention. But, finding that he turned uncomfortably cold when he began to wonder which of his curtains this new spectre would draw back, he put them every one aside with his own hands, and lying down again, established a sharp look-out all round the bed. For, he wished to challenge thenext ghoston the moment of its appearance, and did not wish to be taken by surprise, and made nervous. 

Suddenly without warning, the clock struck one.

The moment Robotnik's hand was on the lock, a strange voice called him by his name, and bade him enter. He obeyed.

It was his own room. There was no doubt about that. But it had undergone a surprising transformation. The walls and ceiling were so hung with living green, that it looked a perfect grove; from every part of which, bright gleaming berries glistened. The crisp leaves of holly, mistletoe, and ivy reflected back the light, as if so many little mirrors had been scattered there; and such a mighty blaze went roaring up the chimney, as that dull petrification of a hearth had never known in Robotnik's time, or Nack Marley's, or for many and many a winter season gone. Heaped up on the floor, to form a kind of throne, were turkeys, chickens, geese, game, poultry, brawn, great joints of meat, sucking-pigs, long wreaths of sausages, souffles, mince-pies, plum-puddings, bowls of eggnog, cheesecakes, bananas,barrels of oysters, red-hot chestnuts, cherry-cheeked apples, juicy oranges, luscious pears, immense twelfth-cakes, and seething bowls of punch, that made the chamber dim with their delicious steam. In easy state upon this couch, there sat a green hedgehog, glorious to see, who bore a rare medallion shaped like drums, and held it up, high up, to shed his light on Robotnik, as he came peeping round the door.

''Come in!'' exclaimed the Ghostly hedgehog. ''Come in and join the party, dude.''

Robotnik entered timidly, and hung his head before Manic. He was not the dogged Robotnik he had been; and though the Spiritual hedgehog's eyes were clear and kind, he did not like to meet them.

''I am the Ghost of Christmas Present,'' said the Spiritual hedgehog. ''Look upon me, dweeb!''

Robotnikreverently did so. He was clothed in one simple green robe, or mantle, bordered with white fur. This garment hung so loosely on the figure, that his capacious breast was bare, as if disdaining to be warded or concealed by any artifice. His feet, observable beneath the ample folds of the garment, were also bare; and on its headhewore no other covering than a holly wreath, set here and there with shining icicles. His messy,shaggy, green hair was long and free; free as his genial face, his sparkling eye, his open hand, his cheery voice, his unconstrained demeanour, and his joyful air. Girded round his middle was an antique scabbard; but no sword was in it, and the ancient sheath was eaten up with rust.

"You have never seen the like of me before!" exclaimed Manic.

"Never," Robotnik made answer to him.

''Spirit,'' said Robotnik submissively, ''conduct me where you will. I went forth last night on compulsion, and I learnt a lesson which is working now. Tonight, if you have aught to teach me, let me profit by it.''

''Touch my robe, homey!''

Robotnik did as he was told, and held it fast.

Holly, mistletoe, red berries, ivy, turkeys, geese, game, poultry, brawn, meat, pigs, eggnog, sausages, oysters, pies, puddings, fruit, and punch, all vanished instantly. So did the room, the fire, the ruddy glow, the hour of night, and they stood in the city streets on Christmas morning, where the people made a rough, but brisk and not unpleasant kind of music, in scraping the snow from the pavement in front of their dwellings, and from the tops of their houses, whence it was mad delight to the boys to see it come plumping down into the road below, and splitting into artificial little snow-storms.

* * *

**_Meanwhile, backstage:_**

**Rocket the Sloth, Bocoe, Decoe, Miss Oppossum, Lucinda, Nack, Mr and Mrs Crane and everybody else were congratulating Sonia for her excellent performance. "Oh, my goodness, Sonia! I am so jealous!" squealed Miss Oppossum, as she clasped her hands.**

* * *

And perhaps it was the pleasure the good Spiritual hedgehog had in showing off this power of his, or elsehe was his own kind, generous, hearty nature, and his sympathy with all poor men, that led him straight to Robotnik's clerk's; for there he went, and took Robotnik with him, holding to his robe; and on the threshold of the door Manic smiled, and stopped to bless Sonic's dwelling with the song playing from his medallion. Think of that.Sonic had but fifteen yen a-week himself; he pocketed on Saturdays but fifteen copies of his Christian name; and yet Manic, the Ghost of Christmas Present blessed his four-roomed house. 

There was Princess Sally Alias Acorn, dressed out but poorly in a twice-turned gown, but brave in ribbons, which are cheap and make a goodly show for sixpence; and she laid the cloth, assisted by Cream the Rabbit, also brave in ribbons; while Master Charmy the Bee plunged a fork into the saucepan of small potatoes, and getting the corners of his monstrous shirt collar into his mouth, rejoiced to find himself so gallantly attired, and yearned to show his linen in the fashionable Parks. And now Ray the Squirrel and Blaze the Cat, came tearing in, screaming that outside the baker's they had smelt the goose, and known it for their own; and basking in luxurious thoughts of sage and onion, Blaze and Ray danced about the table, and exalted Master Charmy to the skies, while he blew the fire, until the slow potatoes bubbling up, knocked loudly at the saucepan-lid to be let out and peeled. They also boiled small heads of cabbage for dinner, and then they set the table. Sonic the Hedgehog came darting downstairs into the kitchen at the speed of light with a tiny, orange little fox who was born with two big, fluffy, soft tails and bore a little, woodencrutch and was supported by an iron frame, and he wascalledTails in his arms, followed by Amy Rose.

"Listen up, everyone, I got some very, very, very bad news!'' Sonic announced. "I will be unable to be home for Christmas morning because Mr. Scrooge wants me to work, work, work!"

"What!'' everyone gasped in a shock.

''No way! There should be a law against working on Christmas Day!'' cried Blaze. "It's unfair!''

''I know, it's unfair, but Mr. Scrooge will fire me if I stay home.'' said Sonic, picking up one of the medical bills, "without a job, how am I going to make any money to support this family?" And then he turned to his family with a sad look on his face, especially Tiny Tails.

Such a bustle ensued that you might have thought a goose the rarest of all birds; a feathered phenomenon, to which a black swan was a matter of course-and in truth it was something very like it in that house.Sally made the gravy hissing hot; MasterCharmy mashed the potatoes with incredible vigour; MissCream sweetened up the applesauce;Amy dusted the hot plates; Sonic took Tiny Tails beside him in a tiny corner at the table, on account of his bad leg; Blaze and Ray set chairs for everybody, not forgetting themselves, and mounting guard upon their posts, crammed spoons into their mouths, lest they should shriek for goose before their turn came to be helped. At last the dishes were set on, and grace was said. It was succeeded by a breathless pause, as Sally, looking slowly all along the carving-knife, prepared to plunge it in the breast; but when she did, and when the long expected gush of stuffing issued forth, one murmur of delight arose all round the board, especially Tiny Tails, excited by Blaze and Ray, beat on the table with the handle of his knife, and feebly cried out, "Hip, Hip, Hurray!"

* * *

**_Meanwhille, Off the set:_**

**_Sonia was talking to her agent on her cell phone_.**_** "Okay, I'll call you right back." she said as she hung up. Nack came closer to her and winked at her, "Hey, babe, whatsup?"  
Sonia quickly slapped the coniving weasel in the face. SMACK! "Dream on, dweeb!" she shouted. "I think she likes me..." said Nack, with stars dancing around his head, and a hand print on his face.**_

_

* * *

_At last the dinner was all done, the cloth was cleared, the hearth swept, and the fire made up. The compound in the jug being tasted, and considered perfect, pears and bananas were put upon the table, and a shovel-full of chestnuts on the fire. Then everyone drew round the hearth, in what Sonic the hedgehog called a circle, meaning half a one; and at Sonic's elbow stood the family display of glass. Two tumblers, and a custard-cup without a handle. 

These held the hot stuff from the jug, however, as well as golden goblets would have done; andSonic served it out with beaming looks, while the chestnuts on the fire sputtered and cracked noisily. Then Sonic proposed:

''A Merry Christmas to us all, my dears. God bless us!''

Which all everyone else re-echoed.

''God bless us every one!'' said Tiny Tails, in a very weak voice.

He sat very close to the hedgehog's side upon his little stool.Sonic held his withered little hand in his, as if he loved the little fox, and wished to keep him by his side, and dreaded that he might be taken from him.

'Spirit,' said Robotnik, with an interest he had never felt before, 'tell me if Tiny Tim will live.'

''Well, I see an empty seat,'' replied Manic with his hands to his hips, "in the poor chimney-corner, and a crutch without an owner, carefully preserved. If these shadows remainunchanged by the Future, the kid fox will die for sure.''

''No, no,'' said Robotnik. ''Oh, no, kind Spirit! say he will be spared.''

''If these shadows remain unchanged by the Future, none other of my race,'' scoffed Manic, ''will find him here. What then. If he be like to die, he had better do it, and decrease the surplus population. Isn't that right? You said those uncool and wicked words yourself, bub!''

Robotnik hung his head to hear his own words quoted by Manic Hedgehog himself, and was overcome with penitence, guiltand grief.

''Dude,'' said Manic, ''if you're like, a man a heart, then quit that wicked, uncool, and sick mumbo-jumbo, for crying out loud! Why do you decide what men shall live, what men shall die? Huh? It may be, that in the sight of Heaven, you are more worthless and less fit to live than millions like this poor kid fox.''

Robotnik bent before Manic's rebuke, and trembling cast his eyes upon the ground. But he raised them speedily, on hearing his own name.

''Mr Scrooge!''said Sonic; ''I'll give you Mr Scrooge, the Founder of the Feast!''

''Hmph! The Founder of the Feast indeed!''scoffed Sally, reddening with an anger mark on her forehead. ''I wish I had him here. I'd give him a piece of my mind to feast upon, and I hope he'd have a good appetite for it. Then, he'll...''

''My dear,'' said Sonic, ''the children! Christmas Day.''

''It should be Christmas Day, I am sure,'' said Sally, ''on which one drinks the health of such an odious, cruel, no-good, cold-hearted, thoughtless, sick, stingy, hard, unfeeling jerk as Mr Scrooge. You know he is, Robert. Nobody knows it better than you do, poor man.''

''My dear,'' was Sonic's mild answer, ''Christmas Day.''

'I'll drink his health for your sake and the Day's,'' said Sally, ''But not for his. Long life to him! A merry Christmas and a happy new year. He'll be very merry and very happy, I have no doubt!''

Tiny Tails, Blaze, Ray, Miss Cream and Master Charmy drank the toast after her. It was the first of their proceedings which had no heartiness. Tiny Tails drank it last of all, but he didn't care twopence for it. Robotnik was theOgre of the family. The mention of his name cast a dark shadow on the party, which was not dispelled for full five minutes.

After it had passed away, they were ten times merrier than before, from the mere relief of Robotnik the Baleful being done with.Sonic told them how he had a situation in his eye for Master Charmy, which would bring in, if obtained, full five-and-sixpence weekly. The twoRay the Squirrel and Blaze the Cat laughed tremendously at the idea of Charmy being a man of business; and Charmy himself looked thoughtfully at the fire from between his collars, as if he were deliberating what particular investments he should favour when he came into the receipt of that bewildering income. Amy, who was a poor apprentice at a milliner's, then told them what kind of work she had to do, and how many hours she worked at a stretch, and how she meant to lie abed tomorrow morning for a good long rest; tomorrow being a holiday she passed at home. Also how she had seen a countess and a lord some days before, and how the lord 'was much about as tall as Charmy;' at whichCharmy pulled up his collars so high that you couldn't have seen his head if you had been there. All this time the chestnuts and the jug went round and round; and by-and-bye they had a song, about a lost child travelling in the snow, from Tiny Tim, who had a plaintive little voice, and sang it very well indeed.

There was nothing of high mark in this. They were not a handsome family; they were not well dressed; their shoes were far from being water-proof; their clothes were scanty; and Charmy might have known, and very likely did, the inside of a pawnbroker's. But, they were happy, grateful, pleased with one another, and contented with the time; and when they faded, and looked happier yet in the bright sprinklings of the Spiritual hedgehog's light from the medallion, Robotnik had been watching everybody, especially Tiny Tails, until the last.

* * *

**_Backstage... _**

_**...After a few scenes, Knuckles Miss Oppossum, Lucinda, Sonia, Nack, Junior Robotnik,Mr and Mrs Crane, Bocoe and Decoe and the rest of the cast were very proud of Amy, Sonic, Tails, Charmy, Blaze, Sally, and Ray. "Wow, Tails!" squealed Miss Oppossum. "I really appreciate your effort!"**

* * *

It was a great surprise toRobotnik, while listening to the moaning of the wind, and thinking what a solemn thing it was to move on through the lonely darkness over an unknown abyss, whose depths were secrets as profound as Death: it was a great surprise to Robotnik, while thus engaged, to hear a hearty laugh. It was a much greater surprise toRobotnik to recognise it as Rocket's and to find himself in a bright, dry, gleaming room, with Manic standing smiling by his side, and looking at that same sloth with approving affability. _

''Ha, ha!'' laughed Rocket the Sloth. ''Ha, ha, ha!''

It is a fair, even-handed, noble adjustment of things, that while there is infection in disease and sorrow, there is nothing in the world so irresistibly contagious as laughter and good-humour. When Rocket the Sloth laughed in this way: holding his sides, rolling his head, and twisting his face into the most extravagant contortions: Breezie Robotnik, laughed as heartily as he. And their assembled friends being not a bit behindhand, roared out lustily.

''Ha, ha! Ha, ha, ha, ha!''

''He said that Christmas was a humbug, as I live!'' cried Rocket, rolling on the floor, laughing. ''Oh, my god! He believed it too!''

''More shame for him, Fred!'' squealed Breezie, indignantly.

She was very pretty: exceedingly pretty. With a dimpled, robotic,surprised-looking, capital face; a ripe little mouth, that seemed made to be kissed-as no doubt it was; all kinds of good little dots about her chin, that melted into one another when she laughed; and the sunniest pair of eyes you ever saw in any little creature's head. Altogether she was what you would have called provoking, you know; but satisfactory, too. Oh, perfectly satisfactory!

''He's a crazy old geek,'' said the sloth, ''that's the truth: and not so pleasant as he might be. However, his offences carry their own penalty, and I have nothing to say against him.''

''I'm sure he is very rich, Fred,'' hinted Breezie. ''At least you always tell me so.''

''What of that, my dear.'' said Rocket. ''His wealth-ha, ha, ha!-is of-ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!-no use to him. He don't do any good with it. He don't make himself comfortable with it. He hasn't the satisfaction of thinking-ha, ha, ha!-that he is ever going to benefit us with it.''

''I have no patience with him,'' observed Breezie. The sirabean tiger, the unicorn and all the other female animals, expressed the same opinion.

''Oh, I have!'' said Rocket, rolling with laughter. ''I am sorry for him; I couldn't be angry with him if I tried. Who suffers by his ill whims? Himself, always. Here, he takes it into his head to hate us, and he won't come and dine with us. What's the result, anyway? He don't lose much of a dinner.''

''Indeed, I think he loses a very rad dinner-fer sure,'' interrupted Breezie. Everybody else said the same, and they must be allowed to have been competent judges, because they had just had dinner; and, with the dessert upon the table, were clustered round the fire, by lamplight.

''Well. I'm very glad to hear it,'' said Rocket,

''because I haven't great faith in these young housekeepers. What do you say, Topper?''

A young raccoon had clearly got his eye upon one of the little unicorn, for he answered that a bachelor was a wretched outcast, who had no right to express an opinion on the subject. Where a ta little unicorn-- the one with the lace tucker: not the one with the roses -- blushed.

''Ooh! Do go on, Fred,'' squealed Breezie, clapping her hands. ''He never finishes what he begins to say! He is such a bogus kook!''

Rocket revelled in another laugh, and as it was impossible to keep the infection off; though the little unicorn tried hard to do it with aromatic vinegar; his example was unanimously followed.

''I was only going to say,'' said Rocket, ''that the result of his taking a hate to us, and not making merry with us, is, as I think, that he loses some great times, which could do him no harm. I am sure he loseseven more great companions than he can find in his own thoughts, either in his moldy, skanky, dirty old office, or his dusty chambers. I mean to give him the same chance every year, whether he likes it or not, for I pity him. He may rail at Christmas as long as he lives, but he can't help thinking better of it-I defy him-if he finds me going there, in good temper, year after year, and saying 'Uncle Scrooge, how are you.' If it only puts him in the vein to leave his poor clerk fifty yen, that't something; and I think I shook him yesterday.''

It was their turn to laugh now at the notion of his shaking Robotnik. But being thoroughly good-natured, and not much caring what they laughed at, so that they laughed at any rate, he encouraged them in their merriment, and passed the bottle joyously.

It was a game called Yes and No, where Rocket had to think of something, and the rest must find out what; he only answering to their questions yes or no, as the case was. The brisk fire of questioning to which he was exposed, elicited from him that he was thinking of an animal, a live animal, rather a disagreeable animal, a savage animal, an animal that growled and grunted sometimes, and talked sometimes, and lived in Mobuis, and walked about the streets, and wasn't made a show of, and wasn't led by anybody, and didn't live in a zoo, and was never killed in a market, and was not a horse,or a hedgehog, or an oppossum, or a fox, or a squirrel, or a chipmunk, or a rabbit, or a coyote, or a bee,or a chameleon, or ancrocodile, or a walrus, or an echidna, or a bull, or a tiger, or a dog, or a hamster, or a cat, or a bear. At every fresh question that was put to him, this sloth burst into a fresh roar of laughter; and was so inexpressibly tickled, that he was obliged to get up off the sofa and stamp. At last a little unicorn, falling into a similar state, cried out:

''I have found it out! I know what it is, Fred! I know what it is!''

''What is it?'' cried Rocket.

''It's your Uncle Scrooge!''

"You got it!"

Which it certainly was. Admiration was the universal sentiment, though some objected that the reply to ''Is it a bear?'' ought to have been ''Yes;'' in as much as an answer in the negative was sufficient to have diverted their thoughts from Robotnik himself, supposing they had ever had any tendency that way.

''He has given us plenty of merriment, I am sure,' said Rocket, ''and it would be uncool not to drink his health. Here is a glass of apple cider ready to our hand at the moment; and I say,'Uncle Scrooge!' ''

''Well. Uncle Scrooge!'' they cried.

''A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to the old man, whatever he is.'' said Rocket the Sloth. ''He wouldn't take it from me, but may he have it, nevertheless. Uncle Scrooge!''

Robotnik had imperceptibly become so gay and light of heart, that he would have pledged the unconscious company in return, and thanked them in an inaudible speech, if the Ghostly hedgehog had given him time. But the whole scene passed off in the breath of the last word spoken by this sloth; and he and Manic were again upon their travels.

It was strange, too, that while Robotnik remained unaltered in his outward form, the Ghostly hedgehog grew older, clearly older. Robotnik had observed this change, but never spoke of it, until they left a children's Twelfth Night party, when, looking at the Spiritual hedgehog as they stood together in an open place, he noticed that his hair was grey.

''Are spirits' lives so short?'' asked Robotnik.

* * *

**Backstage:**

_**Sonia was helping Knuckles get into his costume. "I'm sure you'll spook Robutthead out of his wits, Knuckles!" she whispered as she draped his face. "Now remember, the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come is silent, and points its finger forward, and nods its head." **_

_**"I know that..." said Knuckles, as Miss Opossum applied some black make-up to his face, and Lucinda was tightened the phantom's belt around his waist. Bocoe and Decoe staightened the costume, while Mr. and Mrs. Crane powdered his face for a ghostly look, and Nack added the skull necklace to his outfit. **_

_**"You need this more than I do..." he pointed out. And then he tied Knuckles's headlocks into the back of his head.**_

**_"Are you ready, Knuckles?" asked Sonia, as she neatened the costume._**

**_"You bet I am!" smiled Knuckles, proudly._**

_

* * *

_"Yeah, you know I can't stay long, dude,'' replied the Ghostly hedgehog. ''It ends here tonight.'' 

''Tonight!'' cried Robotnik.

''Tonight. Hark! The time is drawing near.''

The chimes were ringing the three quarters past one at that moment.

''Oh, Man! Look at the time, dude!'' exclaimed the ghostly hedgehog. "I really gotta jam and juice!"

The bell struck two, and in an instant Manic was gone.

As the last stroke ceased to vibrate, he remembered the prediction of old Nack Marley, and lifting up his eyes, beheld a solemn Phantom, draped and hooded, coming, like a mist along the ground, towards him. It was the ghost of Christmas Yet to Come!


	5. Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come: Knuckles

**Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come**

After months of delays due to a death of the author's grandfather, family outings, homework, essay work, school, job shadowings and such, it was time to resume the story. So far, the story was left off with the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come coming to haunt Dr. Robotnik as Ebeneezer Scrooge. Without further ado, on with the story!

* * *

Great, thick fog shrouded as the eerie, frightening, spooky, cloaked figure stood before the frightened Dr. Ivo Robotnik who was immobolized in fear. 

"A-a-a-a-a-a-a-are y-y-y-you the G-G-Ghost of C-C-C-Christmas Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-Yet to Come?" asked Robotnik, with his lips, quaking and trembling in fear, like a leaf from an oak tree.

The Spirit did not speak, it only nodded its head and pointed its finger onward.

"Are you going to s-s-s-s-s-show me the shadows that h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-haven't happened,...but will happen in the time before us?"

"Did you hear that old goat Scrooge kicked da bucket last night?" asked Scratch, as he, Grounder and Coconuts walked past him and the Spirit with huge old, and dirty bundles full of something heavy right next to a cobwebbed-covered counter, inside an old, abondoned shop, and Rouge the Bat was there.  
"Yeah! Let's see what he's left behind after he bought the farm! Mrs. Dilber, would you like to go first?" Grounder said with a greedy grin.  
"Oh, thank you," replied Rouge, as she pulled her bundle to dump all the loot she had found. "You know, everyone had a right to take care of themselves, and he always did, indeed!" Rouge began pulling out everything out of her bundle, starting from silver spoons to---large, beautiful diamonds! Her eyes began to sparkle at the sight at the large, rare, beautiful, magnificent, priceless diamonds. "CHA-CHING!" she gasped in delight, rubbing her rosy cheeks on them. Storm, the bulky grey albatross tapped on the counter for her to lay the loot. "Oh, sorry," said Rouge, as she presented him  
"Oh, lookie," Coconuts cried with glee, as he pulled out an old, patchy discolored long piece of cloth. "Wait 'til Old Joe gets a load of 'dis baby, I just yanked this bedsheet offa his old digusting, smelly, rotting corpse!"  
"EEEEEWWWW!" Scratch and Grounder groaned in revolted, disgusted unison. A little later, a small black little imp with a big bag fill of loot came along to meet them. "Sorry I'm late, guys," he said, catching his breath. "I heard that stingy ol' goat, Scrooge, has bought the farm last night! I thought he'd never give up the ghost, I wonder what he's done with his money anyway? He hasn't left it to his sweet, kind-hearted nephew, Fred, or his clerk, Bob Cratchiet, or me, that's all I know, "  
Scratch, Grounder and Coconuts bursted out with an uproar of laughter when they heard what Bokkun had just said as soon as a mysterious shadow lurked from the alley.  
"So, is this true that Scrooge is taking a dirtnap?" asked a shadowy midnight colored hedgehog, called Shadow, as he dragged a heavy bag on the ground.

"Whatcha got there, Mister Undertaker?" asked Bokkun, curious to know. "Not much," Shadow replied as he shoved his bundle on the counter, and out came a small velvet sack of mobium coins, a medium-sized limited edition golden steel bowl, a clock, and a few rubies. "just some of this what the old man left behind after he gave up the ghost..."

"What is the meaning of this?" shouted Robotnik in dismay. "Why are my possesions being confiscated?"

Once more, the Spirit did not speak, it only shook its head "yes," as Robotnik was getting even more frightened by the minute.

"Tell me, Good Spirit, What will become of the young fox, Tiny Tim?" asked Robotnik as he began to get down on his knees.

The Spirit pointed to the direction where Sonic the Hedgehog, Princess Sally, Amy Rose, Cream the Rabbit, Charmy the Bee, Blaze the Cat, and Ray the Squirrel were standing near a hollow tree, in front of a snow-covered grey-colored grave marker, engraved with a fox angel and the words that read:

"Here Lies Tiny Tim, our Tiniest Little Angel,"

Sonic quietly and silently kneeled down before the grave, holding the small wooden crutch that Tails had carried along with him, and there was a sad blue Christmas tear in his eye, and Amy Rose decided to stay to comfort him, but Sally led her away from him to be left alone.

"NO! I-I-it can't be!" gasped the overweight man in dismay. "BUT HE'S ONLY A LITTLE FOX!!! SAY THAT THE LITTLE ONE WILL BE SAVED! OH, I BEG OF YOU, KIND SPIRIT! I-I AM NOT THE MAN I WAS!!"

But the Spirit turned away from his face, and told him to come along, leading him to a mysterious lonely grave; with no one to grieve for one man, no one to mourn, weep, or bid farewell to one man; one man whose heart was as cold as ice, one man who was more wealthier than anyone in the cemetery. "Whose lonely grave is this?" asked Robotnik, looking up to the Spirit, as the ground began to split open for him.

The Spirit's hood fell down revealing his face---it was Knuckles the Echidna! Knuckles shoved the hugely overweight man into the deep, dark hole with his fist. "Why yours, Ebeneezer Scrooge!" he gloated, as the ground gradually closed in on him. "The wealthiest man in the cemetery!"

"NO! TAKE ME BACK! I'LL CHANGE MY WAYS!" Robotnik pleaded.


End file.
